


Changing Winds

by dontrunintofire



Series: The Newsies Post-Strike Series Volume One [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst and Humor, Davey calls Jack out on his bullshit, Davey gets dragged down with him, Davey is in the wrong place at the wrong time, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Jack becomes robin hood, Jack gets into trouble, Jack is dumb for a sec but we still love him, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, Post-Strike (Newsies), Protective Jack, Race and Crutchie are buddies, first installment of a long series, rich white men are mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29869515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontrunintofire/pseuds/dontrunintofire
Summary: When his fellow newsboys are bullied by a rich white aristocrat, a fed-up Jack takes matters into his own hands, and when Davey calls him out on what he did, it plunges the two of them into a lot deeper trouble than Jack had planned for.
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly, Crutchie & Racetrack Higgins, David Jacobs & Jack Kelly, David Jacobs & Les Jacobs, Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer
Series: The Newsies Post-Strike Series Volume One [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196030
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment of my hopefully ongoing Newsies series. Requests are open because I’m kinda making it up as I go along. The more you comment and kudos the more likely I am to continue. Honestly recognition is what fuels me to not abandon my works so I’m counting on you guys. 
> 
> This story takes place a year after the events of Newsies. I’m not sure where all I’m gonna go with the ships (Race/Spot or Race/Albert etc.) but for now I’m keeping Jack/Katherine just because it’s canon and I have the most to work with. Don’t expect too much historical accuracy but I’ll try to do my research. This is fiction, after all. I don’t own anything. 
> 
> With all that being said, please enjoy the the first installment the Newsies Post-Strike Series titled “Changing Winds”

They say when the wind changes that means times are changing. They say it's inevitable, that soon everyone succumbs to change, for better or for worse. Things haven't changed for a while. It's been nice, since the strike, and slow and tolerable. Albeit not perfect, it could be worse. You could ask any one of those newsies; they would say they didn't need change, or so they thought. They didn't expect change mostly. But the change that happened to those boys, was it good or bad? For better or for worse? Well, I guess it depends on your perspective. Nevertheless, they did change—they changed with the wind—and they didn't know at the time, but there was no changing back. 

It happened before sunrise in New York City, winter of 1899. It was freezing out, but Jack Kelly didn't seem to mind. He had his dark blue over-shirt on, but not once did his teeth chatter or his arms instinctively move to pull his clothes closer around him. Jack Kelly wasn't paying attention to anything around him as he delicately moved his pencil across his sketchbook. He liked the sound of the pencil scratching against the paper, he found it soothing. He was an artist, and a damn good one at that. 

Jack set his writing utensil down gently and clenched his lead-stained hand which was pulsing from the lack of rest between strokes. He wiggled his fingers—specifically his middle and index—trying to relax them. Jack tried to draw with a light grip on his utensil, but sometimes he became lost in his world of art and found it impossible to realize how hard he was scribbling before he had finished his task, and was left with a painful ache in his right hand. 

Jack ran his other hand through his dark brown hair and rested it on the back of his neck, admiring his finished product. It was just a simple skyline. The sun was peeking through the tall buildings in all its angelic glory, and Jack wanted to capture it before it became too bright, blinding him as the city started its busy day. 

After a long stare at his work, he tilted his head sideways slightly as he examined the bottom corner of the paper, the one very easy to miss. In truth, anyone who looked at the picture wouldn't notice that a tiny section of the drawing had a lighter coloring than the rest of it, but Jack knew now. And since Jack knew that nothing about him was perfect, he at least wanted his artwork to be. 

The pain in his right hand still tingled, but he pushed it to the back of his mind as he again picked up his pencil and pressed it back on the paper, moving it to the bottom left corner to fill it in darker so it would match up with the rest of the drawing. Once he was finished, he let his pencil fall from his fingers and leaned back, smiling at his proud work. That's when it happened. 

The cold breeze—the one Jack was trying his best to ignore—was persistent, until it wasn't. Jack didn't notice it while it was there, but he noticed when it stopped. Maybe he wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been so abrupt, but the wind that blew his papers across the rooftop he called his home had suddenly vanished, his papers stopped dancing, and Jack Kelly felt around him as nothing but a cold chill was left lingering in the air. 

Before he could consider the phenomenon, and before he was left to wonder what happened to the strong gale that he had disregarded, it was back again. His papers reanimated, but this time they were traveling in a different direction. Jack fell forward on his knees to catch them, clutching them in his palm. The occurrence should have confused him, but he didn't let it. A little wind didn't bother Jack Kelly. Nothing bothered Jack Kelly. 

"Hey, Jack. Yous up there?" A small, cracking voice called. "If Davey finds out yous been sleeping outside again, he ain't gonna be happy!"

Jack smiled to himself and called back to his friend. "I'll be right down, Racer!" 

He rolled up his skyline sketch and stuck it inside the tube sticking out on the edge of the roof and shoved the miscellaneous drawings after it. He then rubbed his blue hands together trying to get some color back in them. This attempt had no avail. In addition to his frosted fingers, his nose was numb and probably bright red. When Davey saw him in a few minutes, it would be too obvious to the former "top of his class" that Jack had been outside all night, and Jack would definitely hear about it. 

Jack slid down the icy metal ladder and his feet crashed onto the fire escape. Now he could get a good look at Race staring back up at him. He climbed down the stairs until he hit the concrete sidewalk where the sixteen-year-old boy was waiting for him. 

"What's it gonna take for you not to say anything to Davey?" Jack asked with a wide grin. 

Race fixated his hat onto his blond, curly hair. "I ain't gotta say nothin'. I mean, look at ya." 

Race motioned his right hand out towards Jack with his cigar positioned in between his middle and index finger. Race always had a cigar with him at all times, but it was hardly ever lit. He carried one around because he thought it make him look tough—being the scrawny boy he is, a tough demeanor was hard to come by—also, it was hard to come by matches for a newsboy. 

"Can't sleep?" Race asked. 

Jack shook his head. "Nah, that ain't it. The skyline looked nice tonight; I wanted ta catch it before the sun came up."

Race shrugged as the two boys rounded the corner and arrived at a dingy little door that stood invisible next to the other buildings on the block. Jack gave it a slight nudge as it creaked open to reveal a dark room lined with bunk beds.

"'Mornin gents!" Jack called loudly and was answered by a multitude of groans. Most of the boys weren't out of bed at this time, but if they weren't on the streets by the time the sun had shown itself, then there wasn't such a point in going to work at all. 

Race—an early riser with an average of four hours a night—flipped a switch on the wall and a small bulb in the center of the room started to glow yellow. The boys began to sit up and rub their eyes. 

Specs moaned as he rolled over, trying to clear his eyes but forgetting he slept on a top bunk and yelping as he found himself falling off and hitting the floor with a thud.  
Albert, the one occupying the bed below him was startled awake at the noise and jumped up, whacking his head on the top bunk in the process. 

Race laughed at the scene before him and dodged the pillow an annoyed Albert threw at him before going to his own bunk to retrieve his things. Race reached up to the top bed and pulled a hole-ridden jack off the bedpost before pulling it around him for a bit of extra warmth, while below him another boy was waking up. 

Crutchie yawned and stretched his arms as Race passed. Waking up wasn't super hard for the fifteen-year-old once he got going. Crutchie grabbed his vest threw it on his back and then threw his feet over the bed, letting one leg push onto the ground while the other fell back. He stood slowly and finally grabbed his wooden crutch at the foot of his bed and lifted his body into a standing position.

Jack approached his friend—probably his best friend—and gave him a gentle punch in the arm not supporting his crutch. "How's ya sleep been, Crutchie?" He asked. "Ready for a day's work?"

"As I'll eva' be," Crutchie responded with a smile and a shrug.

The other boys were now awake, putting on their shoes and caps. Specs had recovered from his recent accident as Albert was still rubbing his head.

"Tonight, Imma sleep on the bottom, got it?" Specs told Albert as he wiped down his crooked glasses. "Yous got your own bed back home."

"Yeah, with the texture equivalent of a sack a' potatoes." Another boy—Henry—joked as he grabbed Albert's shoulders from behind. 

"You drawed the short straw." Albert reasoned. "And that ain't my home. If I liked it there, I'd be there."

The boys were out of the lodging house and on the streets only a few minutes later. Although Crutchie would be expected to walk twice as slow, he was almost the farthest ahead, only beat by Race who did a one-armed cartwheel ahead over a puddle after Jojo dared him to. 

There were nineteen of them. Nineteen Manhattan newsies that occupied the lodging house and nineteen that made the trek from the house to The World circulation gate every morning at sunrise. There was Jack, Crutchie, Race, Albert, Specs, Finch, Henry, Romeo, Elmer, Jojo, Buttons, Mush, Tommy Boy, Kid Blink, Sniper, Smalls, Kenny, and the twins, Mike and Ike. Most of them were referred to by their nicknames. Not all of them resided in the lodging house full time. Albert, Buttons, and a handful of others only stayed when their home life wasn't great and they just needed a break. Finch ran away from his house a while ago and hadn't returned since. In addition to the nineteen newsies that lived in the house, two other boys sold with them. Two brothers that they found leaning against the bars of _The World _circulation gate when Jack and the others approached.__

__"Jack! Jack!" The younger one called once he spotted him, pushing off the bars and throwing his arms around him._ _

__"Hey, Les!" Jack exclaimed, returning the ten-year-old's enthusiasm and suffocating Les in his chest._ _

__The older brother, David, started towards him but began to slow once he got a good look at Jack and a scowl formed on his face._ _

__Jack released Les and looked at David's face, assuming it could only mean one thing._ _

__"'Mornin' Davey," Jack said nervously._ _

__Davey put his hands on his hips. "Jack, have you been sleeping on the roof again."_ _

__"Pffff, are you kiddin' me? Why would I do sumthin' that you specifically told me not to?" Jack asked with a forced laugh, but they both knew the answer to that. Jack would definitely do something Davey told him not to. He would do something _because_ Davey told him not to. __

____Jack swallowed hard. "Maybe just....half the night."_ _ _ _

____Davey gave a huge sigh of disappointment. "And when you come down with pneumonia." He said. "And I have to nurse you back to health, I'll kill ya."_ _ _ _

____Jack and Davey were the same age, but from the relationship between the two boys, it almost seemed like Davey was his mother. (Something the rest of the boys loved to joke about) Davey liked to think he took on the responsibility of looking after Jack, and though Jack wouldn't admit it, if it weren't for Davey, Jack would probably forget to sleep, eat, or even breathe. But despite their constant bickering, the two boys had been good friends and selling partners for months now, and had helped each other out of more scrapes than you can count on both hands._ _ _ _

____Jack didn't have time for a snarky comeback because Finch was grabbing his arm and dragging him closer to the gate._ _ _ _

____"Hey look, Jack!" He yelled as he extended his long arm out and pointed a finger at the large chalkboard above the gate that displayed the daily headline._ _ _ _

____The other boys had crowded around them, sticking their faces through the metal bars to get a look. Specs squinted hard, trying to read the white words written on the board. Mush had to practically climb on top of Elmer before he was close enough to read the headline._ _ _ _

____" _Senator Williams removed from office after political scandal._ " Mush read carefully. "Well, would ya look at that?"___ _

______"Ain't that one of the stories you worked on, Jack?" Buttons asked trying to find a peephole to look through against all the crowding boys._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Looks like we're about to find out," Jack said as he saw another pair of brothers approaching from the other side of the gate. But this duo wasn't one that would put a smile on his face like Davey and Les. Strutting towards them were Oscar and Morris Delancey, and they were not the people you wanted to mess with._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Hey, get back! Move out of the way!" Morris snapped as he pulled a key out of his pocket and started to unlock the gate._ _ _ _ _ _

______The newsies backed away, especially Crutchie, who had every right to be intimidated by them after what they did to him last summer._ _ _ _ _ _

______Oscar stood with his arms crossed, glaring at the boys as the gate was opened as if daring them to say something. Jack knew better than to believe his bluff, and as the rest of the newsies got in line to buy their papers, Jack walked up to Oscar with a devilish grin on his face._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Hey, Oscar. Didja sleep well?" Jack asked in a false friendly tone._ _ _ _ _ _

______Oscar glared at him. "You want something, Kelly?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack shook his head. "Nah, it's just...the otha' day I noticed you beatin' up this poor eight-year-old. Just wonderin' what he mighta' done to deserve it."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"He had it comin' to him," Oscar said without hesitation. "It ain't none of your business."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack nodded understandably. "I get it, Oscar. I mean, ya know they always say pick on someone yer own size."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack heard his friends cackle behind him. Oscar huffed angrily at him._ _ _ _ _ _

______"When I get my hands on you..." Oscar said through clenched teeth._ _ _ _ _ _

______"You'll what?" Jack challenged as he leaned in closer to Oscar like he was telling a secret. "Y'know, I don't think Mr. Pulitzer would be very happy ta hear you've been beatin' up on his employees, do you?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Oscar flared his nostrils but didn't move, letting Jack know he had won. He raised his eyebrows daringly one more time before pivoting and turning away from him, strutting right past a scowling Morris and taking his place in line where Race gave him a proud pat on the back._ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack had made plenty of deals with his boss to get Jack to sign on with him, but the one he was most proud of was the promise that the Delanceys were no longer allowed to spend their free time beating up the defenseless newsies. Jack thought it was a disturbing hobby to begin with, but after the deal Jack made with Pulitzer, Oscar and Morris were now all bark and no bite._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Papes for the newsies!" A harsh voice called. "Line up and get ya papes!"_ _ _ _ _ _

______An angry-looking, middle-aged man emerged from behind the newsstand with a cigar in his mouth and a bowler hat on his head. Mr. Weisel had seen better days, and he hated his job. And after not being able to take it out on the newsboys anymore, his pint-up aggression just made him look tired._ _ _ _ _ _

______"How's it goin' Weasel?" Race called out to him, barely able to contain his laugh. The other boys snickered as Mr. Weisel tried to contain himself._ _ _ _ _ _

______The one thing Weisel hated more than his job was the boys he had to work with. Not to mention the nickname they gave him that had stuck for so long that other people had started to think that’s how he pronounced it._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Just drop your cash and move it along," Weisel said exhaustingly._ _ _ _ _ _

______So that's what the boys did. Jack bought his usual hundred papes and then sat on a stack of old newspapers to wait for Davey and Les to go through the line. Before he had a chance to get comfortable, though, Crutchie was already shoving a paper in his face._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Look, look! You made front page again!" He said excitingly._ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack looked at the art displayed under the headline about the scandalous senator. It was just a simple sketch of a meeting Pulitzer had him sit through for accuracy. Jack may have exaggerated all the screaming faces and finger-pointing, but it made for a better headline._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Above the fold, too." Davey pointed out. "Good job, Jack."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack swatted his hand at Davey as a sign of appreciation. Race was adjusting his paper sack over his shoulder as he read the front page._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Kathy's gonna be pretty mad that you stole her story." Race said as he examined it._ _ _ _ _ _

______"She'll be madder if she hears you call her Kathy again," Jack replied, folding his paper and sticking it in his bag. He stood and dusted his pants off before standing on the paper stack and stretching out his arms._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Alright, that's enough gawking for one day." He called out as the boys looked from their papers up to their fearless leader. "Newsies, you've got your headline. Now hit the streets! We’s got a long day ahead of us!"_ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

Davey wasn't one for superstition. He was too logical, and he believed that opening an umbrella inside the house didn't change the outcome of your day, and saying "good luck" in the theatre instead of "break a leg" wouldn't affect the success of the performance. 

So when Davey, Jack, and Les were walking down the streets selling their papers and Jack thought it would be a good idea to pick up a piece of gravel and throw it at hard as he could at a nearby building, Davey was more worried about who owned the window he just smashed rather than the fact that Jack would have back luck for awhile. 

The three boys left that area quickly. 

Jack was on his knees laughing after they had exited the alleyway, priding himself like he had just made a daring escape. 

"You should pay for that," Davey said. "You should go and apologize."

Jack stood up. "No way. I barely cracked the window. Besides, that was one of the richest buildings in Manhattan; they prolly got hundreds of dough they don't know what to do with." Jack put on another proud smile. "So I basically did them a favor."

Davey did nothing but roll his eyes and grab Les's hand to drag him further down the street. There was no use arguing with Jack. 

Davey felt the weight of his bag pressing down on his shoulders, motivating him to switch arms. What gave him a little joy, though, was knowing that it wasn't heavy from leftover papers. 

"You got quite a haul there," Jack mentioned as he pointed into Davey's sack now more filled with coins than newspapers. 

"Half of it's yours," Davey responded as he emptied the money into his hand. 

When they first started working together, Jack made a deal with Davey and Les to split their bounty each day 40-60, (considering the Jacobs brothers were new to selling, and Jack would do most of the work) immediately convinced that Les' tiny face could easily make them millions. But now that Jack had another job, and Davey and Les had gotten more accustomed to how things worked, Jack offered up the extra ten percent, and now the boys split the money halfway at the end of every day. 

Davey had just finished counting the money and depositing half of it into Jack's hand when he felt Les tugging on his shirt and pointing off. 

"David! David, look!" He squeaked.

Davey turned and looked at what his brother was calling attention to. He twisted his head in confusion. 

"Hey, Jack." He said, tapping his friend and motioning down the road. 

Jack looked down the streets at Davey's command. That's when he saw Crutchie a ways down the road, waving a newspaper in the air and calling out the headline. 

"He doesn't usually come around here, does he?" Davey asked. 

Jack shook his head. "No, it's too much traffic. He usually sells near the docks."

"But it's almost nighttime." Les pointed out. "Shouldn't he be done?"

Jack was already approaching Crutchie before he could answer Les. When Crutchie saw the three getting closer he stuffed his newspaper in his back quickly and smiled at Jack. 

"Slow day today?" Jack asked him casually. 

"A bit," Crutchie responded. "I, uh...I may need a new sellin' spot."

Jack frowned. "But the docks is a perfect spot for you. Ain't there enough people there?"

"There's plenty of folks, but when I got there they was all already taken."

"Someone stole your spot?" Les asked with a gasp like it was the worst crime imaginable. 

"Everyone already had papes by the time I got there."  
Crutchie admitted. He pulled his bag off his shoulder and dropped it to the ground with a thud. There were at least twenty newspapers still occupying the bottom of it; not an amount you'd want to have by the time the sun was going down. 

Jack grabbed the handle of the heavy bag and lifted it back up, taking it into his arms. 

"Don't worry, Crutchie." He said. "Me and Dave was done early so's we can help you finish up."

But Davey was already pulling the bag away from him. 

"Jack, do you have any idea what time it is?" Davey asked, causing Jack to grab Davey's arm to peek at the watch he wore on his wrist. 

An exasperated sound followed. 

"Didn't realize it was that time already," Jack said with a groan. 

"She's gonna kill you if you're late again, y'know." Davey reasoned, and Jack knew he was right. "But you go on ahead and Les and I'll help Crutchie sell the rest of his papes."

"I can't ask you to do that, Dave," Crutchie argued. "You's got plans with ya family."

"Our mom will be fine if we're a few minutes late," Davey assured him, then turned to Jack. "You gotta get going. Tell Katherine we say hi."

Jack smiled. "Will do. And Crutchie, tomorrow I'll help you find a new sellin' spot, K?" 

"Gotcha," Crutchie said. "I owe you guys one."

So with a pat on Crutchie's shoulder and a nod to Davey, Jack had taken off down the road. 

His feet had trouble keeping up with his head as he zoomed through blocks and avenues trying to make it to the Bowery before eight. Medda was hosting a fundraiser for the newsies' living conditions and Jack was supposed to be the spokesperson on their behalf. He promised Katherine he wouldn't be late this time. 

Jack chanced a glance towards the buildings and lost his footing just as he saw the theater. To prevent a very painful collision with the sidewalk, Jack skidded his worn shoes across the pavement and came to a stop only feet away from a beautiful young woman with auburn curls pinned up perfectly. 

"Jack, you're late." Katherine Plumber said with a hint of frustration, but nevertheless, a smile peeked out of the corners of her mouth when she saw Jack. 

"Am I?" Jack asked innocently. "Or are you just early."

"The show started five minutes ago and they closed the front doors. We'll have to go in through the back."

Jack threw his hands up defensively. "It ain't my fault Davey's got a slow watch."

"Jack, come on," Katherine commanded as she held out her arm. 

Jack raised with eyebrows impressively and took it as they rounded the corner. He leaned his face in towards hers, but his lips were stopped by her hand.

"Awe, come on, Ace. No one's lookin'." He begged. 

"I'm at work," Katherine explained. 

"It ain't unprofessional. No one even knows you're here as a reporter." 

Katherine shook her head as a smirk appeared on her face. She leaned up on her tiptoes and gave Jack a quick peck on the cheek. Jack blushed. 

"Later," Katherine whispered, and that seemed to be enough for Jack as he stood up straight and continued walking.

The couple arrived at a metal door in the back alley of the theater and Jack rapped on the door three times before stepping back. Medda should be expecting them so it shouldn't be a surprise someone was coming through the back lot. 

"So what really kept you?" Katherine asked as they waited. 

"Crutchie needed my help with something."

Katherine turned to Jack looking slightly worried. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Jack assured her. "He just had a slow day. I'm hopin' I can fix it tomorrow. Davey says hi, by the way. He woulda come, but you know how his parents is about family dinners."

"Wish we could relate," Katherine said simply, causing both of them to produce a satirical laugh. Jack's parents had both been dead for years now and Katherine...well, Katherine's father was Joseph Pulitzer, Jack's boss and also the owner of one of the biggest newspaper companies in the world, so there wasn't much free time on his hands for family bonding. 

The conversation was halted when the door opened and the stage manager saw the two standing out in the cold. 

"There you two are." He said in a gruff voice, ushering them in. 

Jack and Katherine found themselves standing in the green room of one of the most marvelous theaters on the Bowery. Jack had been back there before, but each time he was more awestruck by the extravagantness of the theater. 

"Jack Kelly! I was thinkin' you weren't gonna make it." A large but friendly voice said behind them. 

Jack turned around and ran to hug the lovely middle-aged woman holding out her arms towards him. Suddenly he was consumed in the woman's arms. 

"Sorry we're late Miss Medda. It was my fault." Jack explained. 

Medda Larkin swatted his concern away with her hand. "Don't you apologize for a thing. You two got here just in time." She turned to her stage manager. "Ferris, will you show Miss Plumber to her private box so she can get to work?"

Katherine pulled out her notepad and pen excitedly as the stage manager led her off. She was only nineteen, and her gender made it difficult for any male editor to take her seriously, but after being the one to capture the story about the newsboy strike, (the one Jack Kelly led, no doubt) she was finally trusted with beats other just reviewing shows, and the newsies were her favorite topic, and the one the people expected her to write about. 

When Jack and Medda were left alone, Medda turned to Jack. 

"So how's you been, lately?" Medda asked him. 

Jack shrugged. "Nothin' outa the ordinary."

Medda gave him that look. The look she always gave him when she could tell he wasn't giving her the full story. Jack could hide things from most people, but not from Medda Larkin. She was the closest thing Jack had to a mother. 

Jack took a few steps away sheepishly and began to fiddle with a piece of fabric hanging from one of the costume racks. "It's just...something feels off." He admitted. 

Something had felt off all day. He wasn't sure if it started that morning, or when Crutchie lost his selling spot, or him showing up late to the fundraiser. All Jack knew was that he had a bad feeling. 

"I don't know what it is." He finished quickly. 

Medda's concerned expression softened into that of sympathy as she took a few steps towards Jack. 

"It's your instinct. That's what it is, and usually, if your gut's tellin' you somethin', you should listen." She gave Jack a loving pat. "Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Jack nodded slowly, and Medda could tell he didn't feel like carrying on the conversation so she changed the subject. 

"Alright then." She began. "You'll go on to speak at the start of the second act. Intermission is after a few numbers and I'll let you mingle with the people in the lobby if you want. I reckon they'll want to meet the famous Jack Kelly."

"Sounds good, Miss Medda," Jack replied. 

Intermission happened quicker than Jack would expect, and soon he was in the lobby of the Burlesque Theater shaking hands and toasting with rich businessmen. Jack never in a million years expected to be this popular or be held up on such a high pedestal, but after he led the strike last summer, everything changed. 

"Excuse me, sir," A man with a journal called out as he walked over to Jack. "I'm a journalist for the New York Tribune. Would you be willing to answer a few questions?"

"Of course," Jack responded as he shook his hand, remembering not to spit in it beforehand since this man seemed professional, and Jack had made that mistake in the past. 

The reporter began. "So, what's it feel like to have such a huge impact on the newsie world and the entirety of New York."

"That statement's a bit extreme," Jack said as he began to blush. "I mean, I didn't do it on my own. A lot of folks had my back."

"You negotiated a deal with Pulitzer so he would buy back the newsies' papers." The man pointed out. "Your negotiations also decreased newsie street fights by seventy percent and also opened up the world to other issues which led to gatherings like this."

Jack was speechless with hearing the reporter talk. He had no idea that he and his friends had impacted Manhattan so much. But Jack knew this wasn't all him. He knew he wouldn't have been able to do it without Davey and Katherine. 

"He's right, you know." 

Jack didn't even realize that in his mindlessness, the reporter had left and Katherine was once again at his side. She took her hand in his as she said those words. 

"What you did for the newsies, for all the working kids, you are a hero." 

Jack shook his head. "The strike did that. You and Davey and the boys did that. I was just the pretty face."

"You're too modest," Katherine argued. "You made the world a better place and you deserve to be proud of that."

"We should prolly head back inside. Show's bouta start back up again." Jack said, ignoring her. 

Katherine rolled her eyes as she took his arm again, deciding to let go of the subject.

The couple passed several groups of people as they headed back into the theater. Jack noticed two people chatting; two men, one rather large and the other very tall and slim. They weren't paying attention, so when the larger man noticed the crowd changing direction and moved to turn himself, he found himself colliding right into Jack. 

Jack had no time to react as he doubled over and grabbed his chest from a momentary lapse of air given from the man twice his size. Katherine's arm was yanked from him and he reached out to claim it again, only finding her hand. 

"Jack, are you okay?" She asked as she helped him stand up straight. 

As soon as Jack found his footing, he put back on his previous face as if nothing had happened, but he had forgotten about the man he had collided with. 

"Watch where you're going, will you!" The man griped as he too clutched his chest. 

Jack was slightly confused because he was sure it was _the man_ that had bumped into _him_ , but Jack didn't feel like making a scene, so he apologized quickly and returned to re-entering the theater. 

"I believe you're supposed to look someone in the eye when you apologize to them. Do you even know who I am?" The man persisted. 

Jack's eyebrows creased at those words the man spoke. Katherine froze, realizing where this was going. Jack turned back to the man. 

"I'm sorry." Jack began. "I don't know who you are, but that don't really matter considering you was the one that ran into me."

The man chuckled crudely, not at all taking the boy seriously. "What, do you think I'm gonna apologize to _you_? A newsboy dressed like that at some petty charity auction? You should know your place, boy!"

"Oh, yeah? And what place is that?" Jack asked with challenge in his voice. 

But the man had already turned away from him and rejoined his friend. Jack took a step forward, wanting to continue the argument, but he felt Katherine's hand pull back on his arm. 

"Jack, don't!" Katherine demanded. 

"Kath, you heard what he said!" 

"I know, Jack. He had no right. But picking a fight with him will only make you look like the bad guy." Katherine reasoned. "He's just some rich aristocrat. They look for reasons to demean people they think are below them. Just let that be the end of it."

Jack closed his eyes and exhaled the frustration. As much as he hated to admit it, Katherine was right. Jack knew his value, and the word of some old rich shouldn't matter. 

Katherine was wrong about one thing, though. This wasn't the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The outcome of the situation is going to be a lot better than the setup, I just thought you guys would want to hurry into the conflict, and we definitely haven’t seen the last of that rich mean guy
> 
> As always, let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> I know that was kinda slow but now that I’ve got the introduction taken care of we can get down to the plot. I’m super excited to be going on this journey with you guys, and we get to see Katherine next chapter!!
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments below⬇️⬇️


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